Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Brazil and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Los Fastidios to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
H. Thieme,
Masters at Work,
X-101,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Flipper,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Misunderstood,
The United States of America,
Glenn Branca,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sixth Finger,
The Kinks,
Grauzone,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Japan,
Arcadia,
Crispy Ambulance,
Outsiders,
Skaos,
The Litter,
Colin Newman,
The Happenings,
Boredoms,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lungfish,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Fuzztones,
Fat Boys,
Deadbeat,
Funky Four + One,
Arab on Radar,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scan 7,
Avey Tare,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Moon,
Depeche Mode,
The American Breed,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Harry Pussy,
Intrusion,
Godley & Creme,
The Durutti Column,
DNA,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Davy DMX,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mary Jane Girls,
Subhumans,
Erykah Badu,
The Dead C,
The Saints,
The Music Machine,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Carl Craig,
Technova,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Q65,
Hardrive,
The Stooges,
Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.